


Ayeryn Burning

by RavenTheJoker



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Daedric Princes, Greymarch, Shivering Isles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 17:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10746618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenTheJoker/pseuds/RavenTheJoker
Summary: A short story I wrote some time ago for a friend, featuring Sheogorath and her OC, Ayeryn, who is Sheogorath's daughter.





	Ayeryn Burning

**Author's Note:**

> A short story I wrote some time ago for a friend, featuring Sheogorath and her OC, Ayeryn, who is Sheogorath's daughter.

He took a sip from his wine. The smell of freshly burnt flesh was thick in the air. The wine tasted fine, although seeing flames eat everyone and everything in his Palace was a little discouraging. And yet, Sheogorath sat calmly on his throne, as the roof of the Palace colapsed right onto his head.

‘First of all, I have absolutely all rights to do what I want to do, no expections.’ It was quite late already, in many different ways, and Sheogorath was no way in mood to explain himself to his Dukes. 'We talked about this already, Thadon. We talked about it, didn’t we, Syl?’ 'Well-’ 'Oh I’m sure we did. Sometime in the past.’  
'B-but… burning down the Palace!?’ Thadon objected, 'Are you insane?’  
'Was that really a question?’  
'But what about my garden?’  
'Your garden will manage without you. I suggest you try to do the same.’  
'But…’  
'Oh, cut it you fool!’ Syl burst out, smacking Thadon with the behind of her hand, 'You heard our Lord! He wants the Palace to burn, and it will burn! You better go take care of your Manic quarters before it starts.’ She puffed up her skirt, and left to evacuate Dementia side of the Palace, shortly followed by still mumbling Thadon.  
Madgod stayed on his throne, nervously tapping his fingers on whatever material it was made of this time.  
'My Prince?’ he heard his chamberlain beside him, 'Are you… are you sure, this is the best idea?’  
He tilted his head to the side: 'Best? Of course not. But this one will work, I’m sure of that.’  
'And, your daughter?’  
'Just make sure she’s gone.’

His reasons to burn the Palace may be considered noble by some. Simply put - he had to stop Jyggalag. Not many of his residents knew about his coming. In fact, Haskill was the only one. Yet, something had to be done. This plan was simple: burn the Palace, get trapped in burning debris full of chaos. And hope it will stop him.

Later that evening, everything was set and ready to go. In few minutes, Haskill will set off all fires placed around the Palace. With wine in hand, he slowly drank away the last moments of his life in this form. Only minutes left, yes…  
Tap, tap, tap… sounds of little steps echoed through the empty hall, and then-  
'Father?’  
He froze in shock after hearing her voice. No, no, no, no, no she was not supposed to be here.  
'Father! I was looking for you all over the place!’ Rynne said, quickly running towards him. Her long raven black hair and blood red cloak waved behind her. She jumped onto his lap, nuzzling her face into his chest, but quickly pulling away. 'I missed you.’  
'Ayeryn, what in Sithis’ name are you doing here!?’  
'Haskill wanted to take me away, but I ran away from him. It’s not hard, after a little bit of practice,’ she grinned at him. But her grin faded away when she saw the look in his eyes. 'Is… is something-’  
BOOM  
All the fires went off at the same time. Whole Palace was instantly caught in flames - purple golden flames, his flames.  
'Father, why-’  
'YOU WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE!’  
She quickly stepped away from him, too scared and too confused to say anything. He threw his goblet into the fire and began walking up and down the Hall, ignoring all flames that touched him, even though they visibly burned his clothes and skin.  
'DAD!’ Rynne yelled, dragging his attention to her. 'Shouldn’t we try to escape this damn place!?’  
'I can’t! I can’t leave now! But you have to, yes, you do,’ he grabbed her wrist, but she twisted it out of his grasp.  
'But why can’t you leave? Why are you burning your own palace? Why, why, why, just why…’ she fell to her knees, burying her face in her palms. He slowly approached her and sat down next to her, hugging her tightly.  
'I don’t want you to know. But you are my daughter, and, well, you probably should know.’  
He talked and talked. He told her about Jyggalag, the Greymarch, and the thousands of deaths she went through, only to be brought back by him when he rebuilt his realm. Flames danced around them, burning eveyrthing they touched, but somehow avoiding them. She sat there, simply listening, and her expression became more and more horrified, then sad, until it collapsed into a total and blank madness.  
'Do you understand? I have to stay there, but you have to leave.’  
She slowly nodded.

They breathed in the thick smoke without any visible problems. His daughter stood next to him, clutching his arm. She coughed from time to time, but the smoke was no problem for her either. He focused all his power. It was progressively harder and harder, since he was trying to fight off Jyggalag’s coming. Yet he managed to create a portal, simply leading outside the Palace, into Haskill’s temporary house. She let go of his arm and walked to the portal. She stared into the faint light, but turned around.  
'Father… you said, that I die in every Greymarch. That you’re the one who kills me.’  
'Unfortunately. I wanted to prevent that. This seemed like the best option.’  
'I understand. Farewell, father,’ she said, and stepped into the light…

…And right through it. Her body was caught in flames. Her clothes quickly became ashes. Her hair burned with dark fire. Her flesh hissed, letting out a sweet smell. Her screams echoed throughout the Palace, filling every smallest space, as if the fire itself carried them. The man who was once Madgod only smiled, and returned to sitting on his throne.

He took a sip from his wine. The smell of freshly burnt flesh was thick in the air. The wine tasted fine, although seeing flames eat everyone and everything in his Palace was a little discouraging. And yet, Jyggalag sat calmly on his throne, as the roof of the Palace colapsed right onto his head.


End file.
